


A Sensitive Kid

by Edwardina



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: blindfold_spn, M/M, PWP, Preseries, Underage Sex, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-28
Updated: 2009-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-16 07:23:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2260971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edwardina/pseuds/Edwardina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt: underage, sam is maybe 13? dean is cut and, when they start fooling around, he's fascinated by the fact that sam isn't. he plays with sam's foreskin and sam can get off just from dean sliding it down and then letting it sheathe back over and over. and stuff like dean holding it back as he sucks sam off so that sam is extra sensitive, etc. all consensual, no pain infliction please.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sensitive Kid

**Author's Note:**

> Written for blindfold_spn. Originally posted [here](http://community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn/1037.html?thread=1425933#t1425933).

Sammy's dick wasn't cut like Dean's was. He'd always kinda known it in the back of his head from the times he and Sam used to cram into the same squeaky plastic motel bathtub before bedtime, but the first time Dean saw Sammy's uncut little dick _hard_... oh, man.

Sam had been asleep, the victim of a sex dream and loose boxers used to containing bigger junk -- a pair cast-offs from Dean -- and a hot summer night in a motel room where the AC was crappy.

It wasn't like Dean got off on peeping on his baby brother, but the sight of Sam's slit, set all secretly in his knob that was a shade of pink that should be fucking _forbidden_ , and his nicely flushed foreskin clinging around it like it didn't want to ever let him go, got him hard in record time. He stared at it for half an hour, palms sweating, sideburns dripping, tingling with adrenaline, before Sammy woke up and rolled onto his stomach, flattening his stiffy into the mattress.

"Got a problem, there, kiddo?" Dean couldn't help saying.

"Don't," Sam had moaned at him, annoyed and pitiful at the same time. "I can't help it. It just does that..."

"Roll back over," Dean said, real nicely, kinda coaxing. "C'mon, dude... Dad's not back yet. Lemme see it. We could jerk off," he added, inspired, and Sam slowly peered out of the pillow at him with one suspicious eye.

"Not gonna tell Dad?" he asked softly, sounding reluctant, but oh, Dean had him. He knew his Sammy.

"Dude, 'course not," Dean said, and gave Sam a little smile. "I mean, I beat off all the time. You probably know it, and you don't tell Dad."

"Yeah," Sam acknowledged at his pillow. After a second, he rolled over again, this time all the way over to his back, and clutched awkwardly at his hard-on in the too-loose boxers. Dean could see the shape of it, and man, Sammy was just a kid, and Dean remembered having hard-ons like that, but not near as hot as Sam's looked to him, with all that extra skin.

"Here," Dean said, and rolled just as awkwardly over so he could bat Sam's hand out of the way and insistently push the loose cotton slit open around Sammy's dick, freeing it; Sam's stomach sucked in low, and he moaned, sounding alarmed and also like he might blow it just from moving air around his dick, Dean's fingers near it and finding, touching, his fawny, barely-there baby pubes. His dick arched up, thin and blushy as Sammy himself was, something Dean could probably totally drown in the grip of his palm and fingers. Without warning him, Dean did just that, gripping up the dream-hot, stiff little pole of it, and Sammy's bare legs jerked. His head came up off the pillow fast.

"Dean --"

"Dude, your dick's not cut," Dean breathed, horribly hot over it, fascinated and jealous and feeling like he needed to kiss it and lick it, his baby brother's wild, untamed dick. It just seemed dirty, like no one had ever, ever touched Sam at all, and like this was the way dicks were supposed to be, all boned up and beautiful, knob barely contained by its own sheath.

"Is that bad?" Sam asked, voice breaking, and Dean pumped his fist gently, the movement of his fist drawing the velvety, baby-soft skin of Sam's dick down the meat of it and making Sam's knob bust free, that hot dangerous pink, then up again.

"Nah, it's awesome," Dean assured him, barely getting his voice not to shake from just how awesome it really was.

"But yours is cut. I've seen it," Sammy managed, though he looked shell-shocked by Dean's hand on him like this, like maybe he was still dreaming.

"Yeah. It's just different," Dean responded, trying for reassuring but nearly quaking on the mattress.

Sammy let him stroke him slow and deliberate, every move Dean was making designed just so he could watch Sam's dick slide in its skin, watch the foreskin kiss itself wetly on top and cover the slit, then slide down with a silken, shiny wetness, the noise of it not only audible but way wetter-sounding than Dean's jerking off ever got unless he was using lotion or some shit. Sammy started whimpering on every breath, sounding like he was going to cry or something, and when he actually pulsed stiffer than stiff and shot his little boy wad off on his skinny stomach, it hadn't been nearly long enough for Dean.

"You okay? Was that okay?" Dean asked huskily, sticky fingers sliding up to just rub at where Sammy's foreskin was clinging to the neck of his cock, his bare knob flushed red and totally vulnerably out in the open, and Sam writhed, hissing. Dean immediately let him go. "That hurt? 'M sorry, Sammy..."

"No," Sam said tremulously, "just... sensitive there..."

"Oh," huffed Dean, relieved. That made sense.

He watched Sam shyly reach for the nearest article of shed clothing, a sock - the classic, and fussily try to clean himself off, red in the face.

"What about you?" Sammy finally asked, collapsing back on his pillow in a tired-looking, sweaty bundle of limbs way too skinny. His eyes were just as wide and expectant as ever. So Dean shoved his boxers down, fisted himself for Sammy, made it abundantly obvious just how different he was. Bigger, yeah. Hairier, yeah. He was seventeen, and no way he was a virgin; his dick had slip-slided in and rammed girls (and one woman... in college) in three different states now. He was cut. The difference was just so obvious. Sam stared at it, and Dean didn't know if he was intimidated, bemused, or if that endless unblinking stare meant that he liked what he saw, but God, just thinking of Sam's foreskin sliding all over the place had Dean creaming his boxers about as fast as Sam had lasted. Dean slumped over, and for a few minutes, they both laid there breathing in the hot, unmoving air together, sweating, sticky with it.

After that, they did it whenever Dad was gone, even if the AC was kickin', and Dean always grabbed control, huddled down over Sam's naked, skinny-ass thighs and played with his foreskin. Sometimes he got Sam hard like that, stroking his thumb coaxingly between his balls up across the root of him and up to the glans, and got to watch Sammy get hard for him and whine for him. But sometimes Sam had a boner just thinking about doing it, like Dean usually did, and he whispered shit like, "Play with it? Please, Dean?"

So sweet. He never lasted very long, but he could get it up again fast so Dean could lean in again and carefully ease his foreskin down, bare him totally, and watch the sticky cream of Sam's last load slide all over with the skin. He'd lick it clean soft and slow, knowing even his tongue was too rough for the baby-soft head of Sam's dick, and Sammy would squeak for him, "Dean! 'M gonna c-... _Dean_..."

Sam was always a sensitive kid.


End file.
